


Kaitou: The Phantom Thief Kite

by spiralmaiden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, F/F, High School, Light Novel, Shoujo, Takarazuka - Freeform, detective club, kaitou, magical girl, phantom thief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralmaiden/pseuds/spiralmaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A magician's assistant makes a deal with a demon and becomes a phantom thief. Her childhood friend becomes wrapped up in getting a photograph of the thief's true face, with a little help from an eccentric high school detective club. A light novel-style tribute to the phantom thief genre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thief is a phantom … literally.

_Theirs are the only two seats in the darkened theatre. The musical unfolding on-stage makes little sense, but that’s all right, because Shiori is more aware of Haruka’s hand than she has ever been of anything in her life._  
  
 _Haruka is lean and tall and strong next to Shiori’s plain and round and average. Shiori already knows Haruka’s skin is soft and it’s right there, splayed out on the armrest between them. All she has to do is reach out and that slight distance between them will be bridged. She has touched Haruka before; they have known each other since they were children after all, but this time, her longing makes her heart pound. It doesn’t matter that they are both girls and best friends; she just wants to close that space._  
  
 _She feels her whole body run cold, and then hot again as she slowly lifts her left hand and places it gently on Haruka’s right. Neither of them looks away from the play, and Haruka is still quietly laughing at it, but even as she does so, she tips her hand to cup Shiori’s. Her grip is sure and warm and makes Shiori swallow hard, especially when Haruka’s thumb makes a questioning brush over her knuckle._  
  
 _She regrets that this moment can’t be captured in a photograph._  
  
 _Shiori is suddenly pulled up by that hand as Haruka drags her up the aisle away from the stage, charging ahead dramatically with her performer’s grace, her long, bleached ponytail shaking back and forth. The softness of red carpet is replaced by pavement and before Shiori knows it, the two of them are in the gardens a short distance from the Takarazuka Grand Theatre. The trees are in their full spring bloom and Haruka’s back looks like a fairy’s in the pale green dress her grandmother made for her. Among those blossoms, Haruka turns to Shiori, smiling her familiar mellow smile._  
  
 _“It’s too bad you won’t be able to see me do any real magic before I have to go,” she says as she tilts a hand from side to side, as though walking a coin through her knuckles._  
  
 _“Go?” says Shiori. A breeze gusts through the trees and they whisper all over. It sounds like they’re saying “have to go” again and again._  
  
 _And then, it starts slowly, with just the tips of Haruka’s long fingers, the ends of her hair. They become cherry blossoms, indistinguishable from those of the trees around them. They scatter in the wind, and Haruka dissolves one petal at a time. Shiori can only watch in horror, unable to believe this is happening._ This can’t be happening …  
  
 _“Wait. Where are you going, Haruka-chan?” she says, her voice rising with each word, “I’m the one leaving. I’m the one,” and she falters before she chokes up enough air to continue: “I’m the one getting out of_ your _way!”_  
  
 _The wind only continues to sigh and Shiori scrambles forward, wincing when her ankle folds under her as her high-heel twists. She is too late to grasp anything and the last of the cherry blossoms brush through her fingers._  
  
 _Haruka can no longer answer because she is gone, and with her, spring vanishes as well. Phantom snow starts to fall and it’s icy on Shiori’s knees as she braces herself on the ground, numb with cold or shock, she can no longer tell. Winter begins in her heart and despite her unusually keen greenish eyes, she can only see bitter months ahead._  
  
 _Though, she suddenly swears she can hear thunder …_  
  
  
Shiori’s head lolled hard against the edge of the airplane window as the turbulence shook her a second time. She started awake with a loud sigh and blinked at the small portal of darkness beside her face before she remembered where she was. They had left the setting sun (and Europe) behind long ago and were now soaring over China on her way home, back to Japan.  
  
Her year as an exchange student in England was finally over. She was heading back to her own loft bedroom, her family (even her obnoxious little brother), her friends and, best of all, the infuriatingly supportive and beloved Haruka.  
  
When she told Haruka (whom she had been inseparable from since they were four years old) that they wouldn't be beginning high school together all those many months ago, she had expected (or rather, hoped for) shock, sorrow, regret (maybe even tears) from her upon hearing the news. She secretly-half-wished that Haruka would beg Shiori to stay and tell her that the only subject she needed to photograph was her. But no, there was none of that from the unflappable Haruka. She just smiled her floodlight smile and said: “Good luck! I’ll be cheering for you!”  
  
That bluntness shocked Shiori so much that she had simply turned and walked through the gate to her house and slammed the door behind her.  
  
Of course, she forgave her after about three days (give or take). Haruka was all dreams, her dream of the stage the biggest one of all, so of course cheering for Shiori’s own was more important than anything else she might be feeling. Shiori never quite forgot that initial sting of Haruka’s selfless support, however. That girl loved her dream so much? Well, Shiori would be there soon, and was ready to bury her friend in a year’s worth of photographs, new equipment, SD cards and her dream of becoming the world’s top photographer. She would show her.  
  
Just a bit longer on this flight and that’s what she would do. Haruka was worth the wait.  
  
~  
  
Haruka felt the body-breaking impact as she hit the stage of the Illusionary Tsubaki Theatre at the bottom of a long fall for perhaps a quarter of a second. And then there was nothing.  
  
This nothingness was not absolute, however. There were still dim shapes that she could make out, projected by her damaged and dying brain in her last moments. She thought she saw a darkened stage and, beyond that, the shapeless shadows of an audience, their hundreds of sightless eyes gleaming back at her.  
  
Mocking her, perhaps, for her miscalculation.  
  
She wasn’t the sort of girl who went out everyday expecting to face death at any given moment. The illusions, the magic tricks that she was learning about and loved so well were just that: tricks. They weren’t supposed to actually be life-threatening in any fashion and only appear to be so in order to give the audience a thrill.  
  
Perhaps that alone was what made her less cautious. Even though it was only rehearsal, her boss, Arsene Takayama, demanded nothing less than perfection. She thought she could cover for a mistake that had nudged the trampoline she was supposed to land on just a little too far to the left. She thought she could make it. She just didn’t want to let anyone down.  
  
Now, she had let everyone down.  
  
A single spotlight flipped on with a snap, blinding her. She held up a hand before her eyes, letting just enough light shine between her fingers so that she could try and make out what was going on around her. Quite suddenly though, the spotlight began to narrow, and true black nothingness began to close in around her, descending from above.  
  
“So … this is the final curtain …” she said, though there was no one else to hear. No more audience, no more spotlight, no more school, no more … Shiori.  
  
Her plane was touching down at some ungodly hour that night. She wouldn’t have made it to the show, but that was fine, there were plenty of other performances scheduled that week. Haruka was finally an assistant after all. There would have been staying up all night with tea and snacks though. Haruka would have climbed between their two houses and into Shiori’s bedroom like always, with the silence of a cat. Shiori would have talked and talked and shown her every photo that she’d taken. Each one always had its own story and after it was told, it was placed on the wide back wall of the bedroom with color-coded thumbtacks. Haruka’s life was filled with sound, but only half of it was the sound of applause from her life on the stage. The other half was Shiori’s voice.  
  
But now … there was nothing …  
  
It made her angry.  
  
“I don’t want this! There are still too many stages for me to stand on. Too many! You can’t lower the curtain yet!” She swung a hand at the phantom audience, bidding them not to go. “At least … at least I want to see Shiori again … even if Shiori were my only audience from now on, I wouldn’t mind. I just don’t want this!”  
  
The smaller the spotlight grew, the louder Haruka shouted, until suddenly it clicked wide again and she could make out more details this time: a phantom stage, an empty theatre and a tiny figure on the catwalks, sitting next to the spotlight shining down on her.  
  
“So you don’t want it? For your human life to go out?” The voice that fluttered down was sweetly and childishly feminine in contrast to eyes that glowed ominously red in the darkness.  
  
“No, no human wants that,” said Haruka as she lowered her hand.  
  
The figure stood, clung onto a nearby wire and giggled. “I can make you a deal then. We can help each other, right? There’s something I want and there’s something you want. I can keep your human life from going out,” and here she held up a finger as though speaking with great authority (the childish voice aside), “but only if you come with me and do my bidding.”  
  
Without hesitation, Haruka said “I accept!”  
  
The figure seemed surprised by the lack of pause on Haruka’s part, so much so that she almost fell from her perch. Scrambling to get her dignity back, she stuttered. “Y-you, why aren’t you agonizing about this more? That’s no fun. It isn’t like you can return to your normal life again, even if I keep it from going out. You’ll be mine. Don’t you get it? Mine!”  
  
“A chance at life is a chance at life,” said Haruka. “I’ll take anything at this point.”  
  
“Don’t say that like my offer is cheap!” said the figure, shaking a fist at her.  
  
“I just don’t want to die,” said Haruka, “That’s all.”  
  
The figure hesitated a moment more and then jumped nimbly down onto the stage. In the spotlight, Haruka now saw her clearly. She wasn’t more than three feet tall with red, slitted eyes, purple hair done up in bouncy pigtails and small, bat-like wings fluttering restlessly behind her shoulders.  
  
“ …Are you the Devil?” Haruka gave the little girl a skeptical look.  
  
The girl went wide-eyed, then windmilled her arms in fury. “Don’t let Maou-sama hear you say that! He’ll take you away!” she whined ferociously. “I’m just a little demon. But I’ll be a big one soon if you help me.”  
  
“I told you I accept, so get on with it then,” said Haruka with a grin. There was no way she could see this “demon” as threatening, even though “demon” usually suggested otherwise. She acted more like Shiori’s younger brother than anything else, and he was just plain cute.  
  
The little demon ground her teeth. “Keeee!  I wish you’d agonize a little more! You like this stage so much, right? Do some drama!”  
  
“Ehe, that’s not the kind of drama I like,” said Haruka, her eyebrows knitting sheepishly.  
  
“Fine, fine,” said the demon, bouncing back on her heels sulkily. “There’s plenty of time for that later. Right now, we need to make a contract, okay?” She held out her hand.  
  
“ …What’s that? You want something?” said Haruka, confused by the gesture.  
  
The demon flailed again. “It’s a handshake! A handshake! Isn’t that how humans make contracts? They shake on it!”  
  
Haruka chuckled under her breath and then wet her dry lips and said a bit louder, “Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves first?”  
  
The demon blushed, seemingly a bit embarrassed at this oversight. “Eimi,” she said, fixing her eyes on her feet.  
  
“And I’m Haruka Haneoka, but just Haruka is fine. I guess we’ll be working together from now on.” Haruka held out her own hand now, reciprocating Eimi’s gesture.  
  
Eimi reached forward and clasped Haruka’s palm with an almost devious smile. “The contract’s complete then!” She raised her other hand, snapping her fingers.  
  
Before Haruka could react, complete darkness descended and she knew nothing for a while.  
  
~  
  
Outside, it rained. A crowd of theatre patrons gathered for the show were murmuring quietly over the sign taped to the box office window stating that the evening's premiere performance had been canceled due to various circumstances.  
  
A particular group of high school students huddled under clear plastic umbrellas at the head of the line were busy with their phones, texting away and trying to find out what happened that could have possibly stopped the show. Finally, one of their phones chimed cheerfully with a response and was flipped open.  
  
The next sound aside from water hitting the pavement was a shocked whisper.  
  
"My god …"  
  
There was a flurry of activity as the person with the text was swarmed, followed by gasps and murmurings. One girl pulled away from the group, dropping her umbrella and hitting away any hands that clasped at her.  
  
"No way! I won't believe it! Haruka-chan …!"  
  
Her voice rose to a frantic wail that drowned out the rain.  
  
 _"Haruka-chaaaan!"_  
  
~  
  
The same text was waiting for Shiori when she turned on her phone as she waited just outside of Customs:  
  
| _There was an accident. Haruka is no longer with us …_ |


	2. A Lady in the Shadows Part 1: “Tomorrow, I’ll Keep Going As I Am”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first target is a stolen heart!? Welcome to the Detective Club!

The sound of a television woke Haruka an untold amount of time later. She sat up and slowly looked around, finding herself in a cave that was small, round and rather cozy (if one liked caves), with a low ceiling and scattered natural stone structures. An old futon that had been sloppily shoved between two stalagmites sagged beneath her. The little demon girl that had introduced herself as Eimi wasn’t too far away, laying on a flat part of the cave floor on her stomach. Her little feet kicked up over her back and wiggled a little as she waved them back and forth. She was planted in front of a small television, head resting in her hands, completely absorbed by whatever it was she was watching. Her pigtails shook in time with her feet.  
  
It took Haruka a few moments to remember exactly what had happened but when she did, she looked down at herself, let out a yelp and nearly scrambled off the futon. She was completely transparent! She jumped up and bounded across the room, getting between Eimi and the TV.  
  
“Hey, hey, what’s up with this!? I thought you said you’d keep my life from going out,” said Haruka. “How am I supposed to help you like this?”  
  
Eimi didn’t even blink, continuing to watch a music talk show right through Haruka’s legs. “I did keep your life from going out. You’re still shining, right? Besides, I can make you solid whenever I want,” she said. Her eyes followed the host across the screen and she laughed as he hit the other host with a paper fan.  
  
“You should listen when other people are talking to you, you know,” grumbled Haruka. “So you can make me solid?”  
  
“Yup.” Eimi lazily snapped her fingers and Haruka suddenly felt the weight of gravity again as her body reappeared with a _pop!_ She snapped again and a dizzying wash swept over Haruka, leaving her making out the shapes of the cave formations through her hands once more. “My talent as a demon is dematerialization and rematerialization,” she said with a hint of smugness, “So! When I need your help, you’ll get your corporeal form back.”  
  
Haruka crossed her arms, still trying to draw Eimi’s attention away from the television set. _How did she even pick up channels here anyway?_ she wondered. “I know I agreed to do this, but what exactly do you need help with? You said you wanted to become a ‘big demon?’”  
  
Now Eimi did glance up and, in fact, she stood so she could look Haruka in the eye. Despite the demon girl’s size, Haruka gulped a bit. She pointed (a bit melodramatically) at Haruka and said, “ _You_ are going to help me steal human hearts!”  
  
“Human … hearts?” said Haruka.  
  
“Mmhmm!” said Eimi, “My Onii-chan says that human hearts are the most delicious things in the world.”  
  
“When you say that … is that a ‘brother’ or a ‘fellow demon?’”* said Haruka half under her breath (even though she knew her joking wouldn’t delay the inevitable).  
  
Eimi didn’t appreciate it either, swiping a foot at Haruka’s shin that of course went right through (but fortunately missed the television). “Don’t make puns when I’m explaining!” she said. “I have to eat a human’s heart to grow up anyway. But, every time I tried to get one myself … well … things happened and I haven’t eaten one yet!” Eimi’s face turned crimson, and Haruka realized they must share the same shame at failing. “So, you’re going to steal for me.”  
  
Those words hung in the air for a moment before they really settled in Haruka's brain. She was beginning to realize that maybe she should have thought this through more. It wasn’t really like her to charge into something without knowing the consequences (that was more Shiori’s game) but she had so desperately wanted to live …  
  
“When you say ‘human heart’ though,” said Haruka. _There has to be a loop-hole, right?_ she thought.  
  
“A human heart is a human heart and I want to eat it! I want to see how delicious it is,” said Eimi, tapping her foot impatiently. “Get out there and steal one.”  
  
She snapped her fingers and this time it echoed like a shot. Haruka felt the ground beneath her feet again as her flesh returned. There was a sudden rush and whisper of cloth. An odd darkness surrounded Haruka’s vision and she reached up to brush it away, only to discover a mask firmly covering her face. She jerked in surprise as she felt the weight of a hat settle on her head, her long, yellow hair bundled up inside. Gloves wove themselves over her fingers, only to be quickly covered at the wrist by the long sleeves of a slick, black suit jacket. A cape fluttered out behind her, a flash of ebony and scarlet.  
  
Eimi clapped her hands in pleasure. “Ooh! Now you really look like a magician. I’m so good at this!”  
  
“A magician? You wanted a magician?” said Haruka.  
  
“Well, you were in that magic show, right? Aren’t you a magician?”  
  
“Sort of,” said Haruka distractedly as she checked out her new outfit, brushing her fingers over the coat and slacks. They were awfully nice. “I’m an assistant.”  
  
“Eh!?” said Eimi. Her little hands clenched into fists in outrage. “You’re only an assistant!?”  
  
“Only!?” said Haruka, feeling a little outraged right back. “I take a lot of pride in my work! I’m in training to be the top magician in all of Japan and probably the entire world!”  
  
“A-anyway,” said Eimi. She put a hand to her chin as though planning out something much more strategic than her “botched” selection. A few moments of silence went by as Eimi thought hard, scrunching up her face from the effort, and then she slowly smiled. “This works,” she said. “I’ll just _make_ you into a magician. You’ll be the greatest ever. The magician thief! And your name will be … ‘Phantom Thief Kite!’”* She pointed melodramatically again.  
  
Haruka giggled nervously. “Why ‘Kite?’”  
  
“Because it sounds great, doesn’t it? It’s really classic! Just like all those thieves on TV,” Eimi said, nodding as though she had just said something infinitely profound.  
  
“It sounds a little redundant to me,” said Haruka, just barely above a whisper again.  
  
Eimi aimed a kick at her shin, and this time it did impact.  
  
“Ow!”  
  
“I told you not to make puns!”  
  
Haruka rubbed her leg and laughed awkwardly. She could kick her as much as she wanted if it would keep the demon distracted from the subject.  
  
“So, it’s time for us to get to business. I’ll prepare a notice card for you. You should start practicing your showy entrance right now,” said Eimi. She marched very purposefully toward a trunk against one wall that was overflowing with scraps of paper and other junk.  
  
“Wait!” said Haruka, getting in front of her again. Her mind was racing. There had to be a way out of this so that she didn’t have to kill anyone. There had to be …  
  
“Hm?” said Eimi impatiently, trying to get around Haruka.  
  
“Wait just a minute. I know how to do this properly, okay? Let me help you write the notice.”  
  
Eimi stared at her skeptically for a moment, and then smiled again. “Okay!”  
  
~  
  
There was a funeral, but Shiori didn’t remember it. When school started, there was an entrance ceremony, and Shiori simply took up space in line. When asked to introduce herself to her new class, she mechanically gave her name and sat back down, with no more information to follow. Her classmates whispered about her, and Shiori didn't hear. Her camera was left at home. There was no point in keeping it with her now. All of the photos from her trip remained packed away. There was no one to show them to any longer.  
  
Before, the distance from Haruka had been bearable. Painful, but bearable, because the distance was surmountable. When distance was geological, there was always email and phone calls. If it was the distance of divided dreams, well, that was simply what happened when people grew up, wasn't it? Haruka couldn't pose and do sleight-of-hand for Shiori's camera forever. And for Shiori, there was an entire world out there, waiting to be captured on film. They would spend their time chasing their own dreams, and the reward would be Haruka's amazed face when Shiori became the most famous photographer in the world.  
  
When she resigned herself—no!—resolved herself to that wish, her new passion began to show in her photos, and her teachers were impressed. She caught the sparkle of snow, the shine of rain, the flutter of leaves perfectly, no matter where she was. Her eye improved beyond all expectations and when one teacher asked Shiori what her inspiration had been, she told her simply: “Many things.” But the truth was they were all for the girl she was racing with, the girl whose back she saw in front of her. She couldn’t wait to overtake her. So that one day, perhaps, they could run together again …  
  
At least, that was how it was supposed to go. Instead, all she saw now was an empty desk with a vase of flowers on it.  
  
Shiori dropped her school bag. She covered her head with her arms, fell to her knees in the doorway of the classroom and, for the first time since she’d returned from England to find out Haruka was no longer anywhere in this world, an agonized wail ground rustily from her throat.  
  
~  
  
“Kusakabe, you awake?”  
  
Shiori blinked. The fluorescent lights above her were blinding. She sat up slowly as the mattress under her creaked in protest. Her face felt like it wanted to crack and flake off. She rubbed her cheek uselessly. Had she been crying?  
  
The white curtain next to the bed rattled aside noisily and she found herself looking up at the bespectacled, expressionless face of Hikaru Saijou, resident class genius. She’d known him since middle school and she suddenly remembered that he attended the same high school as Haruka (and now herself). In fact, they were pretty good friends with him, and she had kept in touch with him during her exchange as well. She realized her brain was slowly refilling itself with everything else besides that one horrible thought.  
  
“How did I get to the infirmary?” she asked as she swiped a bit of sleep from the corner of her eye.  
  
“I brought you here,” said Saijou, his face not budging an inch. “Are you really awake now?”  
  
“My eyes are open, aren’t they?” she snapped, and immediately regretted it.  
  
“That isn’t what I meant,” said Saijou evenly, and Shiori couldn't tell if her unintentional barb had stung him or not. It was easy to see that he hadn't changed at all in the year she was gone, and was still as patient and unflappable (for the most part) as always.  
  
The two of them were silent for some moments as Shiori continued to reorient herself. “How long have I even been coming to school?” she finally asked, realizing that was a piece of information she couldn’t dredge from her brain.  
  
“A few days. You weren’t aware of that much? You’ve really been in shock,” said Saijou. This time, his face curved subtlety with concern before schooling back into a blank expression, as though ripples on water had smoothed themselves.  
  
“I … guess I was,” said Shiori. She gave up on her cheeks and rubbed her forehead instead. “Can I … really be blamed?”  
  
Saijou studied her with his sharp, dark-blue eyes before speaking again. “Not at all.”  
  
A surge of pain flushed through her. “Can I say it out loud? Can I? You don’t mind? I haven’t seen you in a year and I don’t even know how you’re feeling right now and I just—” The words came in a sudden rush. She’d been back all this time and hadn’t acknowledged him, hadn’t acknowledged anyone or anything other than that one horrible fact. Shiori reached out toward him, but stopped just short of touching him, her face turned up into his intense gaze. “Haruka-chan isn’t here anymore!” she finally shouted.  
  
Saijou looked away, his eyes downcast now. “Yes.”  
  
Shiori curled in on herself, drawing her legs up to her chest and resting her eyes against her knees. Her tears felt molten on her skin. She cried quietly for a few minutes before a soft sound caught her attention, a choking noise that wasn’t coming from her throat. She allowed herself to look up and found Saijou, with his glasses dangling in one hand, sobbing soundlessly into the other. There was no need to wonder how he felt anymore.  
  
The two of them simply stayed as they were and wept. Even just being near someone that felt the same way was a small start for Shiori. She didn’t need to say anything else for now.  
  
The nurse let the two of them stay the rest of the afternoon. When classes came to an end, Shiori finally lifted her head and stuck her feet out to get off the bed. This movement startled Saijou, who had long since stopped crying and had been lost in thought.  
  
“It’s late already,” he muttered, and then followed suit in standing. “Listen, I have to go take care of my club for a few minutes, but if you need me to walk you home …” he trailed off, wordlessly offering his full attention for the rest of the afternoon if she wanted it.  
  
Shiori shook her head. “Just keep going as you are. And so will I, okay? This isn’t going to heal so easily. But, I won’t go numb like that again."  
  
Saijou nodded and grinned lop-sidedly, putting his glasses back on. “I didn’t get to say it before because I didn’t think you’d hear, but I’m glad you’re back. Let’s do our best in high school from here on, okay?”  
  
“Sure,” said Shiori, giving him a wave as he headed for the door. It stuck on him on his way out and he had to pull it hard to slide it open, slamming it unintentionally behind him and hissing a quick apology to someone she couldn’t see in the hallway. It was nice to know he was still a dork under that odd, unapproachable face of his.  
  
Saijou had helpfully brought her bag, so after smoothing the wrinkles out of her uniform skirt, she gathered up her things and left the infirmary, ducking into step with the students who didn’t have clubs to attend and so were headed home. Before long, she found herself relying on their lead just to find the shoe locker. She realized then that she didn’t know this school at all, even though she had been attending for several days now. How had she even gotten through those days anyway? When was the last time she’d eaten? Had she slept? She didn’t know.  
  
She finally found her locker and put her street shoes back on, tapping them carefully on each toe before exiting the building. Outside, she was met with clouds of white and pink as the sweet scent of cherry blossoms wafted through the air. Her fingers itched for her camera, but when she looked down at her side she realized it wasn’t there. She hadn’t even brought it today. It was probably still right where she had left it upon coming home that awful night. This wasn’t right at all.  
  
“Tomorrow,” she said to no one in particular, “Tomorrow, I’ll keep going as I am. I won’t let my dream die, Haruka-chan …”  
  
Her only answer was a sweet, warm breeze.  
  
~  
  
Unfortunately, “tomorrow” proved to be almost unbearable for Shiori. Because of her outburst the previous day, everyone was pussyfooting around her like she might come apart at the seams at any moment. She ground her teeth in silence and met their sympathetic looks with glares. When break or study hall rolled around, she pulled out her camera and hunched over it, paging through the pictures on the memory card and trying to project a shield of frustration around herself so that no one would get near. It didn’t take long before people got the message.  
  
Except for one.  
  
As classes ended for the day, Shiori looked up to find Saijou looming over her. “Can I borrow you for a bit, Kusakabe? Or do you have to go home?” His expression offered no clues about what he intended, as usual.  
  
“It’s fine,” she said, wrestling down the urge to drive him off as well, “I think my parents will just figure I’m out chasing down pictures of the cherry blossoms anyway. It’ll make them happy.”  
  
He nodded and stood back, waiting for her to get up and follow him. She packed up her camera and did so, and he led her through the school to the club section. He slid open the door to one of the smaller rooms and inside Shiori was met by the sight of a group of four people already waiting around a rickety wooden table in the center: three girls and one boy.  
  
“What’s this?” she said shortly.  
  
“Isn’t it obvious from the sign?” said the only other boy, equally as piqued. “This is the Detective Club.”  
  
Shiori gave Saijou a sidelong glance. “So this is the club you had to take care of? You have one here too? Just like in middle school.”  
  
“It’s only natural,” said Saijou as he adjusted his glasses by the bridge, pushing them up his nose. “I am the police chief’s son. It’s my duty to pass on the knowledge that I have gained from my father.”  
  
One of the girls politely spoke up. “And whom have you invited to join us today, Saijou-san?”  
  
“This is Shiori Kusakabe,” said Saijou, indicating her with a hand. “She enrolled at this school after being on foreign exchange in England for a year. Her classroom is 2-A. Her birthday is September 21st and she is 16 years old, her height is 5’4”, her favorite subject is art and her worst subject is literature—”  
  
“How is that relevant!?” said Shiori.  
  
“—that aside,” said Saijou, “there is one more thing in particular about Kusakabe-san that is most notable. She is the best photographer in this school and maybe,” and he paused for dramatic affect, “the entire world.”  
  
The group in the room stared at her with varying degrees of interest or (on the other boy's part) skepticism.  
  
Shiori scrambled for words for a moment. “Th-that’s right!” she said, “I’m the greatest!” Her pride wouldn’t allow her to say anything else.  
  
“I want to make use of her for this club,” said Saijou.  
  
A shorter girl with ruddy hair that stuck out in spikes from a high, heavily-styled ponytail was staring the most intently, her eyes getting wider with every passing second. “You were really close with Haruka-chan, weren’t you,” she said suddenly.  
  
Shiori felt her face flush in the sudden silence. Who was this girl even? Using Haruka’s name in such a familiar manner … She raised a foot to advance on the girl when Saijou’s hand gripped her shoulder.  
  
“You’ll have to forgive Komori,” he said placidly. “She’s incredibly smart, but she tends to think out loud.”  
  
His words reached her in time and she was glad for it. The last thing she wanted to do was cause another scene like yesterday. She jerked away from him, headed over to the table, yanked out a metal folding chair with a loud scrape and sat down. “It’s fine.”  
  
“Now then, my comrades, let us introduce ourselves to our intrepid photographer, starting with you, Ishikawa,” said Saijou, coming forward to stand at the head of the table beside Shiori.  
  
The boy on Saijou’s left swept his long, dark ponytail back over his shoulder before he condescended to speak again. “Fuyuya Ishikawa, class 2-B,” he said, and that seemed to be all she was deemed worthy of knowing.  
  
The girl to his left offered Shiori an easy-going smile, her short, light hair giving her a sporty, androgynous appearance. “I’m Natsumi Nagoya. I’m from class 1-C. Looks like you’re my senpai from here on, so let’s get along,” she said, a boyish lilt to her voice.  
  
The girl who had spoken up earlier that was sitting across from Nagoya bowed a little, despite remaining seated, as she introduced herself. “I am Haruna Kuroba,” she said softly, “I am also from class 2-B. I hope you can form a good impression of me.”  
  
The girl Shiori wanted to smack finally got her turn, and she looked as though she could hardly contain herself for it. “I’m Akiko Komori, class 2-A, I’ll be 17 soon and I’m training to be an ace detective!”  
  
The redhead was in her class. Shiori frowned. That meant she had witnessed her breakdown yesterday. Now she liked her even less.  
  
 _Intrusive, overly familiar, excessively excitable airhead ..._  
  
She shoved her irritation aside, for Saijou's sake. “Well, I’m Shiori Kusakabe and it’s nice to meet you.”  
  
“Yes!” they all said in unison.  
  
“So,” said Shiori, “what is it exactly that you want me to do?”  
  
“All will reveal itself in time,” said Saijou. He dug through his schoolbag for a moment, pulled out a piece of paper and flicked it into the middle of the table. “Comrades, this is a copy of something my father will be throwing out because he does not think it is anything serious. What does this look like to all of you?”  
  
The people sitting around the table all leaned in over it to get a better view.  
  
“It wasn’t very large … maybe business card-sized? Was this blown up at all?” said Kuroba.  
  
“Not at all,” said Saijou.  
  
“It’s too big for a business card then,” said Ishikawa, picking the paper up for himself and squinting at it. “Besides, there isn’t any contact information on here. Just a ... riddle?”  
  
“A riddle?” said Komori. She made an excited grab for the paper that Ishikawa ducked away from handily. Komori wasn’t at all deterred by this, switching to verbal pushing instead. “Come on, at least read it. I want to hear!”  
  
Ishikawa took his time clearing his throat, and it made Shiori a little smug that he seemed to enjoy picking on Komori. “It says:  
  
 _‘Tonight, I will draw the curtain on Oscar and Andre and their eternal encore will be over. The very hearts of this town will follow them, swept away like petals on a Path of Flowers._  
  
"That is all.” He set the page back down on the table.  
  
“No signature or anything? Seems strange,” said Nagoya, leaning her head in her hand thoughtfully.  
  
“Then what’s that?” said Komori, pointing at the odd shape at the bottom of the message.  
  
“Unfortunately, that didn’t copy well,” said Saijou, pushing his glasses back up his nose, “but from what I could see, it appeared to be a Japanese-style brush painting.”  
  
“Please allow me to look at it,” said Kuroba. She waiting patiently while it was slid across the table to her by Nagoya. She studied it for a moment. Finally, she said, “Ah! I know what this is!”  
  
“What what what? What is it?” said Komori, leaning seemingly uncomfortably close to Kuroba.  
  
“It is a traditional Japanese kite, Tsubame*-style, and it does seem to be positioned where a signature might go.”  
  
“A kite?” said Ishikawa.  
  
“It seems so.”  
  
Komori was still leaning close to Kuroba, reading the copy to herself, her lips moving softly. “Pencil!” she suddenly said.  
  
Saijou shuffled through his schoolbag again and handed it out to her. She grabbed it without even looking up and began writing words from the message next to it on the blank edges of the copy.  
  
“’Curtain,’ ‘Oscar,’ ‘Andre,’ ‘encore,’ ‘hearts,’ ‘petals,’ ‘Path of Flowers,’” she recited as she copied the words down. “These words are obviously the most important ones. We need to figure out which ones might not actually be important and what they all have to do with each other.”  
  
Nagoya raised her hand as though she were in class. “Yeah, ‘curtain’ and ‘encore’ are obvious theatre words,” she said.  
  
“Good, what else?” said Saijou, back to being expressionless again as he watched his club work.  
  
“Well, there’s a distinct possibility that those are references to this city’s most famous theatre, don’t you think?” said Komori, her eyes blazing with excitement.  
  
“That would be the most logical conclusion,” said Ishikawa thoughtfully.  
  
“Then, that means …” said Shiori, catching on in a heartbeat.  
  
“That’s right, the Takarazuka Grand Theatre!” said Komori with a wave of her pencil.  
  
Shiori slammed her hand on the table in surprise. “Wait a minute! If it’s the Takarazuka Grand Theatre, then the ‘Path of Flowers’ is the street that runs alongside it. And if we’re connecting all the words, then ‘Oscar’ and ‘Andre’ mean the statue of Oscar and Andre on that path!”  
  
“Who are ‘Oscar’ and ‘Andre?’” said Ishikawa.  
  
“They are characters from ‘The Versailles’ Rose,’ a classic Takarazuka performance,” said Kuroba.  
  
“What does this mean?” said Shiori, looking up at Saijou anxiously.  
  
“That’s what the ‘curtain’ is for,” said Komori.  
  
“Is this seriously …?” said Ishikawa.  
  
“That’s right,” said Saijou, and suddenly a grin that showed his teeth rent its way across his features. If Shiori didn’t know him better, it would have seemed uncharacteristic. “This is a notice for theft.”  
  
“Whoaaaa!” sad Komori, her mouth stretched in a wide “o.” She lifted the entire top half of her body over the table, leaning toward Saijou (and getting uncomfortably close to Shiori in the process). “Really? We have a really real Lupin here!?”  
  
Shiori shoved Komori out of the way, standing up from her seat. “Are you telling me they’re saying they plan to steal that statue!?”  
  
“That is correct.”  
  
“We can’t let that happen,” said Shiori, slamming her hand on the table again. Everyone in the room jumped.  
  
“Are you passionate about crime-solving too, Shiori-chan?” said Komori, turning her wide eyes on her again.  
  
“Don’t call me ‘Shiori-chan!’ And no! I just … don’t want that statue to go anywhere … Saijou …” She gripped his sleeve “We have to stop them!”  
  
He grinned again. “That’s exactly what we intend to do. Right, comrades?”  
  
The entire room chorused, “Right!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Onii-san = “older brother,” Oni = “demon,” a pun based on the two words being almost homonyms.  
> *phantom thief = “kaitou,” kite = “kaito” when rendered into katakana.  
> *Tsubame = “swallow,” meaning the bird.


	3. A Lady in the Shadows Part 2: The Stolen Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rivalry is born! Phantom Thief Kite vs. the Detective Club.

One did not _presumably_ return to the scene of their own death and yet, here was Haruka, sneaking back onto her beloved stage where she had spent her last moments. If she wanted to pull this off for Eimi, there was something that she needed that could only come from here. It wasn’t a thing one could easily make in a short amount of time, and Eimi had already sent the notice in her irrepressible excitement.  
  
Haruka glanced down where Eimi was ducked low beside her, hidden partially under her cape. She was looking here and there, obviously very wound up. “Hey, there’s something important, Haruka—I mean Kite,” she whispered suddenly.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“This is where you worked, right? You can’t let your friends here find out that you’re alive, okay? I’ve heard that the uproar caused by people seeing dead people alive again is earth-shattering. If ‘they’ found out about you, ‘they’d’ probably come to destroy you.” She felt little fingers dig into her pants.  
  
“ …who are ‘they?’” said Haruka. Her eyebrow twitched.  
  
“Demons in charge,” said Eimi. “They’re even scarier and more powerful than my Onii-chan. They keep order.”  
  
“So, in other words, you forming a contract with me is forbidden?” said Haruka.  
  
“Sort of?” said Eimi.  
  
Haruka sighed. _Passing on would have been the more peaceful option_ , she thought. “Okay, okay, I understand. If this is going to work, people can’t know who I am. I got it.” Fortunately, Eimi’s conjured costume went a long way toward making this easier. The way it draped over her form and the mask covering her face made it difficult to tell if she was even a boy or a girl.  
  
Another thing that would help right now would be not being seen. That was proving more difficult. Even though it was the middle of the day and there was no show until the evening, people were running about everywhere for backstage preparation and rehearsal. Haruka continued moving quietly in between the wings, which were sectioned off in order to make it easy to get implements for tricks on and off stage. Good places to hide, but also areas of high traffic, depending on what was being rehearsed at any given moment.  
  
Her attention was suddenly drawn by the voice of her now-former boss, Arsene Takayama. The excitable, compact man was speaking hurriedly to another of his assistants, his large nose looking even redder than usual. The girl he was talking to was Haruka’s understudy. She suddenly found herself gripping the curtain in front of her irrationally. _That girl wasn’t an understudy now …_ She forced herself to let go of the velvet.  
  
“What are you doing?” said Eimi.  
  
“There’s just one more curtain section we have to dodge to,” said Haruka, carefully studying what was being rolled around on the set. A towering stack of black boxes signaled a trick that utilized downstage more than up, so this was as good a chance as any. She dodged to the next set of wings up and then behind the screen hiding the back of the stage.  
  
The set piece she wanted to “borrow” was sitting right where she knew it would be, still packed in the long, squat crate it had come in. The convenience was shocking to her. Usually when a new illusion apparatus came in, Mr. Takayama would immediately open it, assemble it and show them how it worked. He had explained this one before it had even arrived, so perhaps that was the reason it was still stowed away, but some small part of her wondered if things were out of sorts because of _her…_  
  
“What’s that?” said Eimi, slipping out from under her cape to inspect the box.  
  
“This is what we need to steal hearts,” Haruka said sweetly.  
  
“ …A box?” said Eimi dubiously.  
  
“It’s what’s inside the box,” said Haruka as she gripped the edges to test its weight. It wasn’t too heavy. The two of them could probably get it out just carrying it between them. There were a few more things she needed though. “Eimi-chan, over here,” she whispered, sweeping across the space behind the screen as quietly as possible. Eimi followed practically on her heels like a puppy ready for a walk. The smoke canister trunk was right where it should be and Haruka opened it eagerly. The hinges shrieked like the branches of a tree on a window during a storm. Eimi almost jumped out of her skin.  
  
“What are you trying to do, get us caught!?” she hissed, “What kind of a thief makes that much noise!?”  
  
“A beginner,” Haruka shot back, digging through the trunk as quickly as she could. She wasn’t as well-versed in the pyrotechnics of magic shows as she would have liked just yet, but she knew more than an audience member, that was for certain. She found what she guessed were the right-sized smoke canisters and tucked them inside her suit coat carefully. They probably wouldn’t go off there. At least she hoped.  
  
“What? What is the meaning of this!?” came an indignant shout from the edge of the screen. Haruka whirled in a low crouch, still in front of the trunk, to confirm if she had been caught or not. If the stumpy half-French man waving a fist advancing on her was any indication, she most definitely had been. “What are you now, some villainous cur from another troupe spying on my tricks!? I’ll not have it!” said Mr. Takayama, stomping toward her as menacingly as he possibly could with his short limbs.  
  
The only thing that was going to get her out of this now was intimidation. She opened her mouth to speak, and then remembered Eimi’s dire warning. She cleared her throat and did her best to lower her already husky voice another register. “It can’t be helped, because I’ll be taking the illusionary treasure inside this crate.”  
  
“If that is indeed the case,” he said, waving his arms melodramatically, “you will have to do so … over my dead body!”  
  
Haruka’s eyes caught the flick of his wrist, because it was a technique in sleight of hand that she already knew well, and suddenly there were two gymnastic clubs in his hands. He raised them and rushed at her with a roar.  
  
 _Is he serious?_ Haruka thought. Bending her knees, she leapt clear over his head, twisting skillfully in midair to land on her feet on the other side. Unprepared for this move from an unknown opponent, Mr. Takayama stumbled and nearly face planted on the stage floor.  
  
“Ohoho,” he said, slowly getting himself back to his feet, “nimble aren’t you? I didn’t think I’d get to have another battle like this. You’re good; almost as good as my apprentice.”  
  
Haruka paused. _Apprentice? But, he didn’t have one …_  
  
He came at her again, and this time, she danced to the side with a spin and flicked out her cape, catching his head with it. He flailed uselessly, trying to untangle himself from the cloth. She gave it a quick yank and the two opposing pulls sent him whirling into a nearby wall. She winced. She didn’t really want to hurt him at all. When he laughed again though, she knew he was all right.  
  
“En garde then, villain! We will duel to the death!” As he charged her this time, she ran forward to meet him, sticking out her foot as he went by. One of the clubs found its mark on her hip and she couldn’t suppress a yelp of pain, but as he tripped over her leg, she managed to grab the other club and yank it away from him, sending it spinning across the room.  
  
Eimi was suddenly on Mr. Takayama, windmilling her fists ineffectively at his face. “Don’t be mean to Kite!” she said.  
  
As the man tried to fend off the little girl demon, Haruka’s mind raced. Carrying the crate between them would be too slow now, and it wouldn’t be long before the entire troupe came after them. Up in the rafters, her sharp eyes spotted the hook of the small stage crane used for some magic tricks. If she found a way to distract Mr. Takayama for only a moment, she could get up there and use it to move the crate. There were ways to escape from the theatre through the roof.  
  
She ran forward again, just barely snatching Eimi out of the way of a club-swing, and carried her away gingerly. “Listen Eimi-chan,” she whispered, “when I give the signal, I want you to make me non-corporeal again, okay?”  
  
“Why!?” said Eimi, her voice twisted with childish rage.  
  
“Just trust me!”  
  
Haruka leapt on top of the crate in a showy manner, swishing her cape dramatically. "Ready, Eimi-chan? Now!” With that, she pulled one of the canisters out of her suit coat and threw it on the ground before her. It promptly discharged, engulfing the two of them in a cloud of smoke. She couldn’t see anything, but she heard Mr. Takayama coughing and Eimi’s snap, and then the weight of her clothing lifted. This was the biggest gamble of all, because she hadn’t yet asked Eimi if people could see her without her body. She hoped upon hope that this was the case.  
  
She bounded across the space behind the screen, scrambling for the nearest access ladder. She grabbed on to the highest rung she could and hauled herself up, skipping rungs whenever possible to get herself to the top quickly. Dragging herself onto the first platform above ground level, she dashed along it at breakneck speed, hoping to find the control panel quickly.  
  
“Villains! Where are you!?” shouted Mr. Takayama, looking up, down and all around but not catching sight of either of them. Her gamble had paid off! She made no sound and could not be seen. This was perfect!  
  
Eimi suddenly appeared in front of her and she balked.  
  
“Now what!?” Eimi said, keeping her voice to a hiss.  
  
“Just a minute,” Haruka said, orienting on the control panel finally. She grabbed Eimi and pulled her over to it, setting the controls. The crane hummed to life, much to Mr. Takayama’s surprise.  
  
“What is this!?” he shouted.  
  
“When the hook reaches the crate, I want you to go down there and hook it up, okay? Snap your fingers, Eimi-chan,” said Haruka. She was ready for her next scene.  
  
“Aye aye,” said Eimi as she saluted cutely, and then she snapped.  
  
“I’m up here!” Haruka shouted as she rematerialized, the flutter of her cape drawing his attention to her at last.  
  
“When did you …!?”  
  
Haruka bowed formally, raising her head slowly. “I have an illusion to bring to life, so I will be borrowing this now."  
  
The hook clunked on the crate, and Eimi slid down the rope, securing it to the crane through the straps still binding it. Haruka quickly pressed a button and the crane swung the cargo into the air, along with Eimi. She cheered and hung on, enjoying the ride.  
  
“Ahhhh my precious illusion!” said Mr. Takayama. He made a useless swipe for the crate as it moved over his head and away.  
  
When it reached Haruka’s level, she reached out and grabbed the rope, quickly tugging it over onto the platform. She looked back over the edge and bowed again. “My encore will be at the Path of Flowers tonight,” she said.  
  
“The Path of Flowers?” said Mr. Takayama, and then he shook his fist at her. “You! You’re with those Takarazuka girls, aren’t you? Finally come to find ways to shut me down? Couldn’t take the competition anymore!?”  
  
“Not at all,” said Haruka, shrugging suavely. “The girls of the Takarazuka Revue are always pure, virtuous and good.” Here she paused, tilting her head just so, knowing it would rile him. “Nothing at all like a thief …”  
  
“Thief!” Mr. Takayama shouted at the top of his lungs, echoing her as though remembering all at once that she was in fact just such a person. “Thief!”  
  
Now there was a flurry of footsteps as the entire troupe came running. Too little, too late however, as Haruka saluted to the first people to arrive. “Adieu,” she said, shoving the crate out of view with her foot and darting after it.  
  
“After that thief!” Mr. Takayama was shrieking.  
  
“Eimi-chan, grab that end! If we continue along this platform,” Haruka whispered instructions as she lifted her own end, “there should be a vent that we can get out of. I used it once when I needed some air.”  
  
“Roger!” said Eimi, already hauling with all the strength she had in her small frame. “Keeee, you’re so cool, Kite!”  
  
“Only because it’s your fault, you know,” said Haruka sheepishly.  
  
~  
  
“So.”  
  
“So?” said Komori, echoing Ishikawa’s succinct statement.  
  
“So, how did it end up like this!?” said Ishikawa as he flailed a hand around at the scene before them. Somehow, a significant portion of the school population managed to converge on the statue by “chance” and were now sitting around, chatting, enjoying meals, and waiting for the mysterious “thief” to show themselves.  
  
“It is high school, after all,” said Komori with a sage nod. “Rumors spread like wildfire!”  
  
“But this is too much!” said Ishikawa. “And who spread the rumor anyway? Who!?”  
  
There was a short silence before Kuroba raised her hand quietly. “Please forgive me … but it was just so interesting, I could not help sharing with friends,” she said, covering her mouth  in a completely insincere gesture of shame.  
  
“Gossip hound!”  
  
Kuroba chuckled.  
  
“There’s even a supervising teacher here!”  
  
Nagoya rested her arms behind her head lazily, a rice cracker hanging out of her mouth. “At least we don’t have to compete with the Takarazuka fanatics tonight.” Her words were muffled by her snack.  
  
“All that aside,” said Saijou, addressing the ragtag group at last, “there was no exact time written in the notice, so all there is left to do is wait with everyone else. Be sure to stay ready and alert. Be aware of every aspect of your surroundings. Kusakabe, you know your role now, correct?”  
  
Shiori was already tinkering with her camera, making certain that the light settings were perfect. “Yeah, I’ll get as many pictures as I possibly can. _If_ anything even happens.”  
  
“Something will definitely happen!” said Komori, “It’s too mysterious tonight for absolutely _nothing_ to happen!”  
  
“Hm,” said Shiori skeptically. She focused her camera on the nearby Garden Fields to let Komori know just how hard she was ignoring her.  
  
“Now then, Ishikawa,” said Saijou quite seriously.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Do you want the salmon roe or the tuna riceball?”  
  
“Why is it that even you are treating this like a class hanami* picnic now, Saijou-san!?”  
  
“It isn’t that,” said Saijou. He tapped the side of his head with a finger. “It’s simply important to eat to keep your mind sharp, and that goes double for seafood. Fish probably played a nutritional role in the evolution of the human brain.”  
  
“I’ll take the salmon roe if he doesn’t want it!” said Komori, throwing up her hands enthusiastically.  
  
Ishikawa coughed into his hand as though attempting to calm himself and then accepted the tuna riceball with a humble bow.  
  
“Okay, I’ll hand out rice crackers now,” said Nagoya.  
  
“And everyone can have some of my mother’s tea,” said Kuroba, pulling a huge thermos out of her bag.  
  
Shiori slowly swept her camera over everything, watching the scene scroll and change in the viewfinder screen. She happened to find a good angle of the little club in front of her all sharing food and surprised herself by snapping a picture. She hadn’t really gotten to know any of them yet (except Saijou, who was a longtime friend), but it was a good picture, so she wanted it.  
  
The statue appeared the corner of her screen and she raised her camera, taking in a full view. The two figures stood, each with an arm outstretched as if in defiance (or welcome?) of the looming theft, their faces serene and framed by curls. She frowned. Why would anyone want to steal that statue anyway?  
  
The entire viewscreen was suddenly taken up with Komori’s tremendous eye.  
  
“Geh!” said Shiori, jumping backwards. “W-what is it?”  
  
“You want salmon roe or tuna?” Komori said cheerfully, holding up each choice respectively.  
  
“I think I’ll just have a rice cracker,” said Shiori.  
  
Nagoya heard her and swung by with the snacks. “Here you go.”  
  
“Eeeeh? That won’t do at all, Shiori-chan,” said Komori.  
  
“I told you to stop calling me that,” said Shiori, focusing her all on her camera again as she shoved the edge of the cracker between her teeth.  
  
Komori’s only response was a giggle and a crinkle of paper. She was looking at the copy of the notice again. “But you know…” she said, as though finishing a thought outloud that had started only in her head, “I wonder what sort of thief we’re going to get?”  
  
“One that steals, maybe,” said Shiori.  
  
“Maybe we’ll get a gentleman like Lupin,” Komori went on, unperturbed by Shiori’s sarcasm, “or a classic magician like 1412!”  
  
That gave Shiori pause, and she glanced up. “Magician?”  
  
It was at about this moment that everything happened at once. There was a sudden _poof!_ of smoke from the base of statue, completely obscuring the area. The students all exclaimed or coughed and the teacher that had decided to come ran about everywhere trying to restore order before anyone got hurt. Shiori let out a yell of protest as her viewfinder was blanked out by the smoke. She couldn’t take any pictures like this! There was a soft swish of fabric and a sudden breeze picked up, clearing the smoke like a curtain being pulled aside. A murmur ran through the crowd as the stage was revealed.  
  
Somehow, a red velvet curtain had been suspended in midair, draping behind the statue as a royal backdrop. Even more eye-catching was the strange cage that now fenced in the statue. The most striking attribute of all, however, was the tall, suavely dressed, masked would-be thief standing beside it, a hand resting on a bar of the cage.  
  
“Bingo, a magician!” said Komori.  
  
~  
  
The notice had worked like a charm, Haruka thought. She was a little surprised by the lack of police presence (since that was where Eimi had sent it), but this audience was just as good. As long as she managed to captivate a group of citizens, word would spread and the job should be done. She would show Eimi just how many hearts she could steal.  
  
There was one thing she hadn’t counted on however, and when her eyes fell on a certain set of faces in the crowd, the blood rushed to her head in surprise and her knees shook a little. Hikaru, his club, _Shiori …!_ They were all there, watching her with suspicious eyes, waiting for her to make her move as a thief. She should have realized that the Detective Club would come. But Shiori, she hadn’t expected _her._  
  
Haruka allowed herself a split second to take her in. Her hair was a little shorter, her face a little rounder, but it was Shiori in all her enthusiastic glory. She wanted to reach out to her, to wink conspiratorially, to have her be the only one in on this. To have her know it was Haruka, right here in front of her, performing for her again. Just like old times …  
  
She was suddenly struck by the feeling that she _had_ secretly hoped Shiori would come. She resisted the urge to look back at the statue that was so precious her … to both of them. She was performing, after all. The stage came first.  
  
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she said as she bowed deeply with a swish of her cape. “I see that you have all come to give Oscar and Andre one last round of applause before they must finally step off the stage forever.”  
  
A ripple of sound ran through the crowd again.  
  
“Is this a stunt? Are there TV cameras?” said one girl, looking all around.  
  
“How can one person move a statue?” said another.  
  
“Now, now, please,” said Haruka, “I assure you that your patience will be well rewarded with my dazzling performance. My assistant, Eimi, will be helping me this evening, so please give her a round of applause.”  
  
Eimi stepped forward shyly from under Haruka’s cape, having dressed herself appropriately for the occasion. She wore a sequined leotard with frills and feathers at the waist, looking for all the world like a tiny showgirl (while her wings were concealed behind some sort of materialization illusion that Haruka didn’t understand). There was some applause from the confused group of people, especially from Akiko, dear irrepressible Akiko Komori, who cheered wildly. Some girls squealed “cuuuute!” under their breath. Eimi put her hand behind her head sheepishly, but she blushed with pleasure.  
  
“And now, at last, seeing as you all have waited so patiently, I believe it is about time that I take my treasure and go. I will simply leave you with a feast for the eyes.”  
  
Eimi stepped forward and positioned herself in front of the statue right on cue, while Haruka circled it, taking elegant, slow steps. She shook the bars of the cage to show they were solid, passed behind the statue to demonstrate that the whole apparatus could be seen through and then made her way back to her original position at the side of the cage. For a moment, she was distracted by a movement from the crowd. Hikaru was sticking out his arm to keep Shiori from moving forward.  
  
 _Sorry, Shiori … I wish I could let you in on a trick one more time …_ thought Haruka. She cleared her throat dramatically, spread her cape with one arm, and raised it to obscure a part of the statue from view as a feint. Eimi’s timing was perfect as she threw the canisters, sending three columns of quick-dissipating smoke into the air. Not even a scarce eyeblink later, Haruka used the hand obscured by her cape to pull a lever that flipped the mirrored shutters hidden between the bars of the cage shut, concealing the statue from view and reflecting the curtain surrounding the whole thing perfectly. She jerked her cape back with a _whoosh!_ It had been seamless …  
  
~  
  
A roar of amazement went up from the crowd all around Shiori as the thief pulled their cape back and the statue seemingly vanished from within the cage, spirited away by puff of smoke.  
  
“It’s gone …” she said, her eyes wide with shock.  
  
Saijou said nothing, but she could feel him shifting next to her.  
  
“Impossible,” said Ishikawa breathlessly.  
  
The magician’s little assistant turned and clapped her hands in delight. “It’s really gone! You’re so amazing, Phantom Thief Kite!” she said.  
  
Shiori found herself pushing through the crowd, eyes locked on the thief, who was in the process of making a bow to thunderous applause. She stopped right in front of them and said the only words that came to mind: “Give it back …”  
  
The thief raised their head again, the masked face revealing nothing save for slightly-parted lips. They had no response to offer either.  
  
“That statue is precious to a lot of people. You can’t just keep it to yourself. Bring it back here! Give it back!” said Shiori. She heard her own voice dimly through her anger, though she was sure she was shouting.  
  
Finally, the thief raised a hand against her tirade. “It is because this statue is so precious that I have taken it. That is … what a thief does, after all …”  
  
Those words felt like a slap and that only made Shiori want to slap back. She took another step forward and as she did, something caught her photographer’s eye, staying her hand. The space between the bars of the cage _… it wasn’t right._  
  
 _All it takes is a little bent light,_ Haruka told her once.  
  
“Saijou!” she said. “It’s still there!”  
  
Saijou blinked, as though coming out of a trance, and then nodded and scooped up something from the ground. It was a small, round pebble, and it left his hand in a perfect toss. And then came the sound of shattering glass.  
  
A gasp went up from the crowd.  
  
“So in the end, you’re just some pitiful street magician that uses smoke and mirrors? That’s all?” Saijou said. His voice was a husky, uncharacteristic growl. Shiori watched in surprise as his expression pinched in pure fury. “You’re not even a real thief?”  
  
The thief actually stepped back a little.  
  
Ishikawa nudged his way to his leader's side. “Saijou-san, what are you—"  
  
“This!” said Saijou, stepping forward and putting out his hand. Now, at certain angles, it became noticable: the space between the bars was reflective. “When all of you were distracted with the smoke and theatrics, these mirrored shutters were closed. Since they’re flanked at the right angle by the red curtain, they reflected its color and texture and made it appear as though you could see right through this cage. But,” he said, pointing at the shutter that he’d shattered, “that’s such a simple thing to break through, isn’t it.”  
  
The thief said nothing, but the little assistant was losing patience. “Stop picking on Phantom Thief Kite!” she shouted, and stomped her foot for emphasis.  
  
“This is no thief,” said Saijou. He cast a disappointed glare in their direction. “Kusakabe figured out the trick, but what I don’t understand is why anyone would want to pretend to be a criminal. Well?”  
  
“Phantom Thief Kite isn’t playing!”  
  
“Eimi-chan,” the thief said, sweeping out hand to the little girl and beckoning her closer, “it’s all right. The jig is up. We should disappear now.”  
  
“Hmph. You even give up easily,” said Saijou, not giving the would-be thief another glance before walking back toward the crowd.  
  
“No!” said Eimi, with another stomp.  
  
“Boring,” said a girl in the crowd, and her and her friends began to walk away.  
  
“How cheap,” said another.  
  
Eimi began snapping her fingers over and over again in what appeared to be an odd expression of frustration. Suddenly the make-shift stage around the statue behind her began to fall apart. Whatever had been suspending the curtain snapped and the red velvet cloth pooled at the statue’s base. The sides of the cage fell away one by one, the mirrored shutters shattering as they hit the ground. As the last panel met pavement, another amazed silence fell over what remained of the crowd. A few of those leaving turned back to see.  
  
The statue was, indeed, gone.  
  
“Saijou-san. Saijou-san! Look!” said Ishikawa as he frantically grabbed Saijou's shoulders and forcibly turning him back around to face the now-empty statue base.  
  
Shiori couldn’t speak or move again. The illusion had become a reality.  
  
“What!?” shouted Saijou.  
  
Before he could take even two steps forward, the thief scooped up their little assistant, who latched onto their neck, and leapt out of reach. They landed in the branches of a cherry tree, scattering blossoms everywhere. From there they launched themselves at a streetlight, catching its suspending bar skillfully with their hands, flipping forward and alighting upright on top of it in a stunning display of aerobatics.  
  
Saijou stumbled to a halt at the base of the streetlight. “How? How did you do it?”  
  
The self-appointed phantom thief paused for a moment before laughing deeply and arrogantly. “A magician never reveals their secrets,” they said. The little assistant Eimi, still holding on, pulled down an eyelid with a finger mockingly and stuck her tongue out.  
  
“You’re under arrest for defacing public property!” Saijou shot back.  
  
“In that case, it seems it really is time for me to perform a disappearing trick of my own. Adieu,” said the thief, leaping off of the lamp and into another cherry tree.  
  
Shiori felt like something was slipping away. She couldn't just accept things as they were. “Wait!” she said, darting forward to stand with Saijou.  
  
The thief paused in a crouch on a branch. “What is it?"  
  
“I challenge you!” Shiori said without thinking. Saijou looked over at her with wide eyes.  
  
“Do you now?” said the thief.  
  
“You call yourself ‘Phantom Thief Kite?’” said Shiori, “Well listen up, Kite! If I capture a picture of your true face, I demand that you return the statue!” It was sheer desperation that made these ridiculous words tumble from her lips, but she meant them sincerely, with every bone in her body. Something felt like it was bound tightly within her that might break free at any moment. It seemed like this was the moment.  
  
Kite tilted their head, considering, and then the lips below the mask quirked in a smile. “I look forward to seeing your attempts then. Each and every one of them.”  
  
Everything inside of Shiori uncoiled at once. She had a sixth sense about the next moment, and raised her camera just as Kite was leaping further into the trees. The sight filled Shiori’s pupils until she could see nothing but the perfection of the moment: the swirling cherry blossoms, the moon in the sky and the fluttering cape of the thief. She snapped the picture.  
  
And then Phantom Thief Kite was gone.  
  
“Make the riddle harder next time, you!” Saijou said, shaking his fist after the thief.  
  
The two of them turned to find the Detective Club all staring at them expectantly.  
  
“What are you waiting for!?” said Saijou, “After that thief, comrades!”  
  
“Right!” they all said in unison, moving as one into the trees.  
  
Shiori stared at the picture of the thief in her camera, feeling a fire she hadn’t felt since before she left for England.  
  
“Phantom Thief Kite … I will capture you for sure!”  
  
~  
  
It had been a perfectly divine exit, but now Haruka was in a less-than-dignified situation. Her agility failed her as a sudden, violent wash of fatigue tripped her up and the next thing she knew, she was hopelessly tangled, cape, limbs, and all, in the branches of a tree.  
  
Eimi stopped on the branch above her, calling down, “What’s wrong, Kite?”  
  
“Ugh … Can’t move … I think I’m … hungry …” said Haruka.  
  
“Eh!? Hang in there, Kite!”  
  
Haruka only heard Eimi’s shout dimly. Her eyes fluttered shut.  
  
Something hot was put to Haruka’s lips and she coughed and sputtered. Eimi was now sitting beside her on the branch while Haruka was leaned carefully against the trunk. Her cape and hat and everything had been painstakingly extracted from the branches and her mask had been taken off. Eimi was fanning her with it in one hand and trying to get her to drink a can of tea with the other.  
  
“You woke up!” she said cheerily.  
  
“Yeah …” said Haruka. She blinked, trying to clear her vision.  
  
“We stole the statue and then we escaped and then you said you were hungry and then you fainted!” said Eimi empathically. “I’ve never had to deal with a fainted person before. Does tea help? You said you were hungry, so I found these and—”  
  
A package was shoved in front of Haruka’s face. She blinked again and it came into focus. “Donuts!” she said, tossing her performer’s dignity aside and tearing into the package with glee. The two of them made themselves more comfortable in the tree and shared tea and donuts for a while, munching away happily.  
  
“I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until now,” said Haruka, around yet another donut. “I guess I still have to eat even though I’m dead, huh.”  
  
“Geff fho,” said Eimi, her mouth full. She swallowed her bite eagerly and bounced on her knees excitedly. “But, you were so cool Phantom Thief Kite!”  
  
“Thanks to you,” said Haruka, “you saved my skin there.” She grinned at Eimi indulgently.  
  
“But you still made it disappear yourself too! You really are a magician! It was just because of that rotten party-pooper that the magic was broken,” said Eimi.  
  
“Well, thanks,” said Haruka, blushing sheepishly.  
  
“There’s still something I don’t understand though,” said Eimi, putting a finger to her lip contemplatively.  
  
“What is it?” said Haruka.  
  
“You said you’d steal me the hearts of the town, but where are they then? I want to eat them!”  
  
Haruka blanched a little. “Well, you see, we really stole the hearts of the entire town,” she said, spreading her arms expansively and wobbling on the branch a little, “so it’s all way too big to see and eat. We’re sitting in the middle of those hearts right now and they stretch above us to the sky, to the river, to the trainline, all over. You can’t eat something that big.”  
  
Eimi watched Haruka carefully while she babbled, her eyes scrunched in concentration. _Oh please buy it,_ Haruka thought. Suddenly, Eimi’s eyes got big again and she applauded. “Woooow! That’s really amazing! It’s so big that we can sit in the middle of it and it’s _so big!_ ” she said joyfully. “And right now, it’s all ours!”  
  
Haruka breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
“I was right to pick you,” said Eimi. “You make this so much fun!”  
  
“I’m glad then,” said Haruka, grinning.  
  
“But next time,” said Eimi, pointing at Haruka with as much authority as she could muster with her tiny frame, “let’s steal something that I can actually eat!”  
  
“R-right. Say!” Haruka said, changing the subject as quickly as possible, “since there is going to be a next time, can I ask you a little favor?”  
  
“Hm?” said Eimi around a donut hanging out of her mouth.  
  
“Can we send the notice directly to that ‘party-pooper?’”  
  
“Why would you want to do that? He’ll just be nasty and ruin things again!”  
  
“Because we gotta show him what we got,” said Haruka, making a fist.  
  
Eimi considered for a moment, then slowly smiled again. “Ooooh! A challenge! A rival! It’s perfect, it’s so perfect! He’ll chase you down with handcuffs! And it’ll be the grandest race ever!”  
  
“Exactly!” said Haruka.  
  
“And he’ll bring that girl with the camera with him right? Right? I want to see pictures of you too!”  
  
“I’m sure he will.”  
  
“Then, we really have our challengers now! The story is complete!” Eimi leaped to her feet to shout at the moon, both arms stretched over her head. “Just you watch, world! The legend of Phantom Thief Kite has begun! Whoa!”  
  
Haruka winced and, with a sigh, reached down to untangle the excitable demon from where she fell within the tree. She had  to return the favor from earlier after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hanami = flower-viewing, most commonly used for an activity when one picnics under the cherry blossoms during their season
> 
> I have the next section already written but ... it's a hot mess so editing might take a while. Thank you so much for reading though. I didn't think anyone would ever see this story. I'm writing this solely for fun and my own entertainment so it isn't my best writing but I wanted to share it anyway. I hope you're enjoying it!


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